


Whumptober 2019 - Star Wars

by HeartOfStars



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, BAMF Leia Organa, Brother-Sister Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Luke needs a hug, Mentioned Han Solo, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Protective Darth Vader, Protective Leia Organa, RotJ AU, RotS AU, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-28 16:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfStars/pseuds/HeartOfStars
Summary: Whumptober prompts featuring the Skywalker family.Chapter Summaries:Day 4: Human Shield-- A bounty hunter tries to kill Luke. Vader intervenes.Day 10: Unconscious-- ROTJ AU. Both Luke and Darth Vader survive the Death Star.Day 17: "Stay With Me"-- Luke is captured by an Imperial with a personal vendetta against him.Day 20: Trembling--Leia comforts Luke after a nightmare about Bespin; they remember Han.Day 27: Ransom--Following an AU where Anakin didn't turn, Luke is kidnapped and held for ransom.Day 30: Recovery--Follow-up to Day 17; Vader helps Luke heal from being tortured.





	1. Day 4: Human Shield

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ESB.

Luke had never imagined he would feel relieved to see Darth Vader.

Years ago, any thoughts of the Dark Lord of the Sith were followed instantly by feelings of fear, and anger, and determination to send the tip of his lightsaber through Vader’s chest. Han had even joked about it once(or twice), laughing about how incredible it was that a naive farm kid like Luke could harbor such feelings of fury.

Then, after Bespin, things had gotten more complicated--part of Luke still wanted to kill the man who said he was his father, but then he would never know the full truth, would he? So there was confusion, and more fear than before. It was a fifty-fifty shot that the next time Vader saw Luke, he wouldn’t torture him further, or murder Leia and Wedge and Lando(and Han, even, because there was no one Vader couldn’t reach, no matter how far away they were). 

So the next time that Luke saw Vader, there would be no room in his chest for relief. He’d be too busy panicking and trying to dredge up some last retort before he was made to join the Dark Side.

Except that now, several months afterBespin, he’d been captured by some bounty hunter desperate for money; only the bounty hunter didn’t want him alive. That had confused Luke initially. As far as he knew, there was a bounty on his head, for two billion credits no less, but one that stated he be brought in alive only. Before Bespin he’d wondered why; then he understood. Vader wanted Luke turned because he was his son, he couldn’t be of any use to him dead. But now that was exactly what the bounty hunter wanted, which begged the question: was there a second bounty? One that Vader had no jurisdiction over?

It looked like he was never going to find out.

The bounty hunter had caught him by surprise; the Force screamed a warning just seconds too late, and a blaster bolt hit him in the shoulder. The next thing he knew, his arm was burning, and a hand was dragging him upright by the hair. As he struggled to remember what had happened, he felt the touch of a blaster at his throat.

Panic raced through him, and before his captor could fire, Luke concentrated, focused on the Force...it filled his mind and entire being, and with a triumphant grin, Luke raised his hands.

The bounty hunter flew backward fifty feet, rolling across the grass and landing in a heap.

Well, that was glorious, but there was no time to bask in it. Now was his chance. Luke stumbled to his feet, dark spots filling his vision briefly--ignore it, ignore the wound for now, he told himself--and ran, clutching his arm--

A sudden impulse, a blank scream in the Force, filled his mind, and Luke threw himself out of the way; soon enough to save his life, but not enough to keep him completely from harm. As he jumped, a searing pain ripped through his side.

_I’m going to die,_ was all he could think as he lay sideways on the ground, faintly aware that blood was draining out of the wound in his side--a little more focus, and he managed to bring a hand up to stop the bleeding. But the bounty hunter was approaching, and he could barely keep himself conscious, much less...

“STOP!”

The deep bass echoed across the field, sounding more like a roar than an actual shout; and after several seconds, Luke realized that it was Vader who had said it, Vader who was his father had showed up with the full might of the Force(and exactly zero side wounds).

A moment later, he realized that Vaderhad been there already for several minutes, but Luke had been too distracted to notice. Now he did; Vader’s presence in the Force was like a black snake, huge and domineering and protective, and it coiled round him in an instant.

_**Luke,**_ said Vader, inside his head, and Luke shivered, thinking instantly of Bespin. _**Luke, watch out--**_

Suddenly, Luke remembered the bounty hunter; his presence was right behind him, angry and determined; but he wasn’t the only determined one. With his father in front of him and the bounty hunter behind, Luke somehow, miraculously, managed to drag himself to his feet with a groan--still keeping a hand pressed to his side. He took one step to the left, away from both enemies, and then another--

And then an arm seized him; Luke had no strength left to fight, much as he wanted to, as the blaster was once again pressed against his throat.

And then Vader was right in front of him. For some reason, all Luke could sense radiating from him was burning, black hatred. For...for him? That didn’t seem right, but maybe his father was that cruel…

_Or maybe he cares after all,_ a rebellious voice whispered in his mind. Luke ignored it.

“I told you to stop,” Vader rumbled. “And you did not listen. But this time, you _will.”_ With a hiss-snap, the familiar red lightsaber ignited; but for the first time in almost four years, Luke knew that it was not meant for him. “Let the boy go, or die.”

But instead of let Luke go, the bounty hunter laughed. “Die? I’m afraid you’d face the Prince’s wrath. This bounty isn’t under your control. The word on the street, Lord Vader, is that you don’t have the Emperor’s favor anymore.” He licked his lips. “Someone else does.”

The Force screamed again--he was going to die--yet Luke could do nothing. He had two excruciating injuries drawing his attention, he couldn’t focus, could barely stand up--

And then, a millisecond before the bounty hunter would have fired, the blaster was ripped out of his hand. Then, a second later, the bounty hunter _did_ let go; Luke dropped to the ground, unable to stand, and simply lay there.

There was a strange sound behind him.

_Odd,_ he thought dimly, through his pain. _It’s like someone’s choking on their food._

No, that wasn’t it, he realized with horror. Vader was choking the bounty hunter--he was...killing him.

But didn’t he want that? Didn’t Luke want the bounty hunter dead?

He did, deep down. He did want that creature to die for almost killing him...but he also knew that it was absolutely not right.

“No,” he gasped, somehow managing to sit up; and then, a little stronger: “No! STOP!”

Vader stopped.

Quickly, the Sith Lord turned to regard Luke. “Rest. Do not speak.”

“But--” Luke dragged in a deep breath, past aching ribs, and blinked away more dark spots. “But you can’t…kill him. It’s not right.”

Vader stared at Luke, for a second more; Luke swallowed. _He’s going to go back to killing him,_ he thought, morosely. _Or worse...he’s going to make_ me _kill him._

But Vader did neither. Instead, he dropped his hand, and the bounty hunter collapsed.

Luke stared at his father in shock. Had he just...at Luke’s asking…? Luke blinked. Those dark spots were getting more and more determined to stay in his vision. Furiously, he concentrated and blinked again.

And when his vision cleared, Vader was in front of him. Kneeling.

Luke didn’t know what to say; apparently, neither did Vader. They simply sat, and stared at one another. After several seconds, Vader laid a hand on Luke’s head, brushing the bangs out of his face; and for some stupid, childish reason, that simple action made Luke want to cry. He could remember Aunt Beru--and even Uncle Owen, on some bizarrely unique occasions--doing the same.

“Relax, Luke,” Vader said at last, repeating himself from before. “I will take care of the rest.”

Mutely, Luke nodded.

_He cares,_ said the same rebellious voice, more stubborn. _Your father cares._

_No, _Luke thought. _It’s not true._

But wilder things had been true before.


	2. Day 10: Unconscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ROTJ AU: Vader kills the Emperor and gets Luke off the Death Star before it explodes. Lots of feels ensue.

_ “I am a Jedi, like my father before me.” _

Hours later, Darth Vader was still in shock. 

He had been so sure, for almost a year, that he had squandered his last chance to save Luke. That his son was gone. That his best chance of “saving” Luke was to let Luke kill him, and let the Emperor destroy the son as he had destroyed the father, both physically and mentally. That today would be his last day in the galaxy, and that he would spend it staring into his son’s eyes as life left him.

That he had failed his son just as he had failed his wife.

And yet...and yet, against all odds, his son had  _ not  _ killed him. Instead, he had done what was probably the stupidest thing Vader had seen out of him(and considering the Death Star, and Vrogas Vas, and Bespin, was saying a lot); he had thrown away his lightsaber, and told the Emperor he had failed. To his face. Which had resulted, naturally, in Luke’s near death, and the reason that he and Vader were alive now.

Alive...but not healed.

There was Vader’s missing hand to consider, as well as residual weakness from the duel...but that was  _ nothing  _ compared to Luke. The boy had been electrocuted within an inch of his life; and while Vader had gotten him off the Death Star before it exploded, Luke had not woken since. 

Now, Luke lay on the fold-out bed in Vader’s shuttle, unconscious, deathly still except for the occasional spasm. Vader had set the shuttle on course for Mustafar and sat by Luke’s side, and that had been an hour ago; he couldn’t risk leaving his son, even for a moment. He was too afraid that if he did so, Luke would be dead when he returned. 

_ How did it come to this?  _ Vader thought, gently stroking Luke’s hair back from his forehead, again and again, just as his mother had, years and years ago in what felt like an entirely different world, a different galaxy. What a marvel, that he was even able to do  _ that.  _ He should have had a loving wife, a family, two children he could dote on and spoil enough to make them embarrassed. Instead, his wife was  _ dead,  _ by his own hand; his daughter hated him to the core of her being; and his son lay in front of him, wounded almost to the death because Vader hadn’t been strong enough to act sooner. 

_ You are stronger than I am, my son,  _ Vader thought, gazing down at Luke--how was it possible for any one person to be so perfect?  _ Mentally, and physically...you were strong enough both to resist the Dark Side, defeat me in combat, and withstand intense Force lightning for several minutes without dying. I would have failed long before you. I  _ did  _ fail.  _ Vader wished desperately that he could be free from that damned suit, free to touch his son’s human face with his own human hands, but this was enough; simple to be here, in the presence of his son, without their blades crossed between them was a blessing. 

And a curse. If Luke had not been in such critical condition, Vader would have left himself on the Death Star to die. 

He deserved to die, really. No one should want him spared, the man responsible for the deaths of millions of people, responsible for the Empire, responsible for the death of the one woman who could have stopped the galaxy’s downward spiral, twenty-three years ago--

A sudden movement from Luke brought Vader’s attention back to his son. He looked down eagerly, hoping, begging for Luke to open his eyes--and dreading it. Would Luke look on him with love, or with the same hatred that Vader knew Leia held for him? Vader had been the one who had goaded Luke into using the Dark Side, after all…

Slowly, ever so slowly, Luke began to stir. His hands twitched first, and for the first time Vader noticed the thin line on Luke’s right wrist; yet another reminder of all the misery he had caused his son. Then Luke’s head turned--toward Vader--he let out a soft groan, and opened his eyes. 

“Wh--what…” Luke searched the small room dreamily, his gaze at last landing on Vader. “F-Father?”

Vader’s heart leaped in his chest. So far, so good…but of course, Luke had just woken up. He might not remember anything yet. Remembering Bespin, the curses and shouts were yet to come. 

“Father,” Luke whispered again. “Is...is that you? Or am I dreaming?”

“It...is me,” Vader said haltingly, slightly surprised. Unless he was hearing things that weren’t there, Luke sounded genuinely relieved. “You are not dreaming.”

“Then...then…the Emperor!” Luke’s eyes went wide, and he sat up--Vader could not allow him to do that, though, not yet. Gently, he pushed Luke back down onto the pillows. 

“He is gone,” Vader said. “You never have to worry about him again.” 

What a relief, he realized, to finally get to say those words. He had had a fleeting vision, twenty-three years ago, shortly before he confronted Obi-Wan; he had seen himself, having accumulated even more power, defeating and killing the recently crowned Emperor, and returning to Naboo to tell his wife those very same words. That was all he had wanted, all along; security for himself and his family. But it had taken him too long to get it. 

“Wait...gone?” Luke frowned. “But the last I remember…” His son shuddered, fear entering his eyes; he remembered now, Vader realized. “The last I remember is...is...I was dying. But then what...how…?” 

Slowly, his eyes drifted up to Vader; and then, there were tears in his eyes. 

“You...you…?” Words seem to fail Luke; like father, like son, thought Vader with a hint of amusement. “You...killed him?”

“Yes,” Vader said simply. There was nothing else to say. 

And then, to Vader’s utter shock, a smile began to grow on Luke’s face; tentatively, at first, then bursting in a beautiful grin across his face. At first Vader couldn’t understand it. Why would Luke smile...at him? Why would Luke smile at all, after everything that had happened? Why…

“You killed the Emperor,” Luke said, his voice shaking; though it was more from utter joy than anything else. “ _ You  _ killed him--you turned back to the good side!”

“You...were dying,” Vader said, still not knowing quite what to say--except the truth. “He was killing you. How could I not?”

Luke stared at him, his expression shock and hope and happiness all at once; and then, before Vader could stop him, he lunged forward at Vader with a sob...and wrapped his arms around him. Luke was hugging him. Slowly, still in shock, Vader wrapped his own arms around his son in return. 

Luke loved him, he realized. It  _ was  _ true.

And then Vader was smiling, too, though Luke couldn’t see. 


	3. Day 17: "Stay With Me" (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-ESB, Luke is captured by an Imperial with a personal vendetta against him. Fortunately, his father isn't very far away.  
Part 1 of 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this one is a day late! Hopefully the length makes up for it.  
Warning: Spoilers(?) but there is torture in this one.

Luke didn’t know exactly how it had happened, but he’d been locked in an Imperial cell for the last twenty...twenty-four hours? He didn’t know for sure how long it’d been, but by now he seriously doubted he’d be able to rescue Han.

Several days ago, Leia had discovered Boba Fett’s location(thanks to a recon officer who had happened to be in the wrong place at the right time), and Luke had jumped at the chance; in the month since Bespin, half of his nightmares had been haunted by guilt over what had happened to his best friend. He hadn’t done it himself, he knew that...but it had been done _ because _of him, and that was almost as awful. 

As for the other half of his nightmares...that wasn’t even worth thinking about. 

So before he knew it, he’d taken Artoo and Leia and departed for Eadu, hoping to catch Fett before he disappeared. But then it had all gone wrong. Boba Fett hadn’t been there--not even from the beginning, meaning Leia’s informant had turned traitor--and the supposedly empty Imperial base had been alive and running. Luke had emerged from his ship to an onslaught of blaster fire; and from that point it was all he could to do to get Leia off planet before being taken into Imperial custody. 

Almost a day later, no one had come; there had only been a glass of water, and no food, slid under his door halfway through the day. Luke had spent the time meditating, or at least trying to meditate; it wasn’t exactly easy to focus when the thing he’d been fearing for almost four years had happened. He’d been captured by the Empire, they were going to torture him, until he lost his mind...or kill him in front of everyone, for Leia and Lando and Wedge to see…

Or send him to Vader. To his--to the man who claimed to be his father. Luke was pretty sure that was the worst option. 

No one had showed up, so he could only wonder about their motives; wonder whether they knew who he was, what they wanted, whether Vader knew...he couldn’t know. Not yet. 

But Eadu was under Imperial jurisdiction. He was sure to find out within a day. And then...and then what? When Luke was delivered to him, what would happen? _ If _Luke embraced the absolutely ludicrous news that Vader had told him...would the Sith pick up where they’d left off? That hadn’t been a great place to begin with; it was sure to get worse. Vader would try to turn him, if that were the case...or else he’d realize that Luke was nothing like him and decide to kill him, all the same…

He was going to go crazy; he had to stop thinking about this. With a shaky sigh, Luke sat down on the cell’s narrow bench and closed his eyes. What could he think about? Where did he feel the safest; what, or who, made him feel safe?

Han and Leia. Luke pictured them; the first image that jumped to mind was one of them arguing, and he smiled…

_ So you think I’m not good enough. Is that it? _

_ I don’t where you get these ideas, Captain Solo! Of course you’re good at what you do. But you’ve got half a brain if you think I’m going to let you lead the mission to Felucia! _

_ Oh, yeah? And I bet you’d like it if I took off now and left your precious Rebellion! You’d lose all your battles without my ship on your side-- _

** _Son. _ **

The awful, heavy presence, dark and ominous and _ reaching for him, _cut off Han and Leia, filling his mind in its entirety. 

Luke bolted upright, terror overwhelming his senses...and then the door slid open to reveal the governor who’d captured him. 

For several seconds, they simply stared at one another. 

“Luke Skywalker,” the governor said at last, and Luke heaved a sigh. So, they knew. There went his first window of opportunity. “We haven’t met. I’m Governor Kraslin.”

“I don’t care," Luke said, straight-faced. 

Maybe that hadn’t been wise. Governor Kraslin cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowing...and then he strode forward, motioning several Stormtroopers inside; but not only Stormtroopers. A _ torture _droid. Luke’s heart caught in his throat…

And then he forced himself to breathe. This or Vader, he told himself. It’s this or you get turned over to Vader. 

“You’re wittier than some of the Rebels we’ve caught,” he said. “I’ll give you that. But it won’t lessen your sentence.”

“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” Luke said, his heart hammering in his chest. “At this point that’s all I’m expecting out of you.” 

“Oh, we’re going to kill you, boy.” Kraslin smiled thinly. “But not right away.” He stepped back, ushering the troopers forward, with the torture droid, that had already started to hum, its many instruments already powered up. “You see, there’s something you don’t know...my _ daughter _was an officer on the Death Star when it was destroyed!”

Luke closed his eyes; he’d always lived with some kind of guilt from that, even though he knew it had been for the greater good. He hadn’t wanted to cause anyone pain. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Kraslin snapped, his face suddenly livid. “I suppose, when you destroyed the Death Star, you didn’t think about the people living on it.”

That was too much. Luke raised his head, staring directly at Kraslin. 

“Actually,” he said, “I thought about the people down on Yavin 4 who _ you _would’ve blown up. The Death Star was a military base. I don’t condone those deaths, but by destroying planets, you asked for it.”

Kraslin didn’t speak; he stepped back, his face white, and ushered the Stormtroopers forward. Luke clutched the bench, but was unprepared for the pain; a second later, it was if there was a tiny fire lit in every single one of his pores. 

He screamed. 

The needle jabbed him again; this time, the fire turned to ice. That was worse; memories of Hoth, of almost dying and being in pain and freezing to death and being terrified returned, and he writhed on the bench. His skin was turning to ice, he trembled and shook--he had never thought cold could be _painful, _but it was now. It was more painful than anything he'd ever felt in his _life, _and all he wanted was one single blanket--

He almost shouted for them to stop, then and there; but he knew it wouldn’t help. They were merciless, and they were of the Empire, so they would never stop. 

And anyway, it was this or the Dark Side. 

"Are you sorry _now, _Skywalker?" Kraslin loomed over him; he was thin and wiry but loomed all the same. Luke could barely look up at him; he was shivering too terribly, his teeth chattering. 

"You won't speak, will you?" Kraslin gestured to a trooper; and then, mercifully, the cold was gone. Luke gasped, leaning back against the wall. If only his hands weren't chained to the wall, then he could...

No. No using the Force; Vader would feel it. 

Luke barely registered the Stormtrooper's first moving forward; the white metal hit him across the cheek, and he yelled in pain. The temptation not to fight was even stronger; he'd _always _had to struggle against the perception that just because he was kind to people didn't mean he was a pushover. That's clearly what Kraslin thought now...if only he could throw the man across the room, he thought, break his back--

Luke shuddered with revulsion. Not only was that using the Force, it was of the Dark. 

"Still nothing?" Kraslin smirked. "Nothing but screams...but before you die, I want to hear you _beg." _

"I'll...never do that," Luke croaked, his voice hoarse. 

Kraslin clenched his fists, and Luke was struck again; this time, he could feel blood trickle down his cheek, but he couldn't see it. He could barely see anything now, his head spinning and ears ringing...

"Hit him again." 

No, no, Luke thought, his eyes widening; but before he could even prepare himself, the droid moved forward again and--

This time it was electricity that burned his veins; and somehow, that was the worst. Luke felt both hot and cold, tendrils of lightning rippling over and through him. He screamed again, louder this time. He wanted nothing more than to reach out with the Force, throw the droid and Kraslin into the wall and STOP this--

But that would draw Vader's attention. So he did nothing.

~

Vader was livid. 

Apparently, this insignificant Imperial officer had captured his son thirty-six hours ago, and he was only now finding out about it; now, hours after an incredibly tense conversation with Palpatine. But that wasn't the worst of it. 

The worst was the indescribable agony that he could feel radiating from Luke's presence every second. 

He had felt it the second the Executor docked over Eadu, concrete proof that his son was here. For one moment, he had been in equal parts relieved and elated; then the shuttle had departed for the planet's surface, and it had become clear just why he could feel Luke so well: his son was in constant pain, his agony screaming out through the Force. And since he had been in whatever cell the base could provide for over a day now, that meant only one thing. 

Governor Kraslin had crossed a line. 

The entrance to the base was a durasteel door guarded by four Stormtroopers; as he approached they stepped forward with their blasters, clearly acting on the governor's orders. For the tiniest fraction of a second, Vader considered not killing them...and then, at that precise moment, he felt Luke's consciousness. 

A second later, both troopers crumpled to the ground, clutching their throats. 

Another second, and the locks on the door were nonexistent.

From there it wasn't a long walk to where he could feel the right cell to be, but it felt much longer. With every step, Luke's pain grew more pronounced, even through his unconsciousness, to the point where Vader could feel every jolt or pained movement as if it were his own. 

At last he had arrived at the door to the cell. For a moment he hesitated, almost afraid to see what terrible things Kraslin had done to Luke, to his only child; then Luke's presence, though unconscious, reached out toward him. 

Vader stretched out with the Force, clenching his fist, and the door blew off its hinges. 

He froze. 

His son was curled up on the cell’s bench, his hands bound above his head in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position, unconscious and shivering. The temperature in the cell was far below what could be considered humane, even for Imperials, which explained the shivering; but that wasn’t nearly the worst of it. A torture droid hovered in the corner, waiting at the command of Governor Kraslin, who stood motionless; its work on Luke was seen in the form of multiple bruises and lacerations and--as Vader reached out with the Force, probing his son for further injuries--burns from electric shock. 

“P-please…” Kraslin stammered. “Please, I didn’t mean--”

Slowly, clenching his fists, Vader wheeled to face him. The man was trembling from obvious terror, but it only suited to further enrage Vader. The man had _ clearly _ known what he was doing. His crimes were impressive: he had captured the most wanted man in the galaxy, hidden the fact from all of his superiors, tortured him without permission. And that was excluding the fact that the Rebel prisoner was Vader’s _ son, _deserving of royal rank and status far above Kraslin’s station. 

So, in all, he was deserving of execution. 

Something Vader would be more than happy to give him. 

“_ Enough,” _ he hissed, and Kraslin’s stammering stopped. “Do you have _ any idea _what you have done?” He took a step closer to the terrified governor, not even bothering to try hiding his rage. “Do you KNOW who that is?”

“Y-y-yes, sir!” Kraslin yelped. “Yes, yes, I know--that’s Luke Skywalker, destroyer of the Death Star--"

“And you were to deliver him to me. To _ me, _Governor!” 

“He killed my daughter!”

That was shocking; something Vader hadn’t known. But he had a counterpoint.

“And that Rebel,” he said, gesturing to where Luke lay on the bench, “is my _ son.” _

Kraslin let out a horrified gasp. Vader reached out a hand, focusing all his rage and fear into one pinpoint, one purpose: to kill the man who had tortured his son, but slowly, with as much agony as Luke had been tortured, until Kraslin would beg him for death--

There was a sharp whirring to his left. Vader turned to see the torture droid come to life again; it moved forward, toward his son who still had not moved. 

“NO!” Vader turned his attention from Kraslin--the governor dropped lifeless to the floor of the cell--and stopped the droid dead in its tracks. But that wasn’t enough; the awful machine needed to be gone. With a snap-hiss, he drew his lightsaber and cleaved it in half, then again; and when it lay as lifeless as the governor, he sliced off the needles it had used to torture his son.

“What…?”

His son’s soft groan reached his near-dead ears, and Vader withdrew himself and approached the cell’s bench. Luke had just begun to stir but was clearly a long way from consciousness; he shook and shivered, muttering things Vader couldn't catch. The sight of his son like this, bruised and broken and barely awake, nearly sent him back into a rage...but he forced the feelings away, with some difficulty. If he allowed himself to feel that, he would put his son in danger. 

Vader knelt by Luke’s side, first unlocking the binders with the Force before reaching out to smooth his son’s hair back from his face. Luke barely responded with another groan; and that was worrisome, even though part of Vader was ecstatic that Luke he was allowed to touch him like this. 

A moment later, Luke’s consciousness began to fade again; his head turned sideways as he started once more to slip away. But Vader would not allow it.

“No, Luke,” he said, turning his son’s face back toward him. “Stay with me--stay awake.” 

Luke’s eyelids fluttered, and Vader could feel him fighting with unconsciousness; that wasn’t enough. Taking him by the shoulders, Vader shook him gently; finally, Luke’s eyes blinked open.

His son looked confused, but that would be expected He frowned, struggling to focus on Vader. “F...Father?”

Vader hadn’t known true joy in almost twenty-three years; he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. But to hear Luke call him “Father,” by the title he’d longed for and thought was stolen from him forever…

“Yes, Luke,” he said, sweeping back his son’s bangs once more. “I am here.” He could not stay there a moment longer; he needed to leave, to get Luke somewhere safe. He didn’t think his son was in any life-threatening danger, but his injuries were critical; and if he didn’t treat them, they might soon _ become _life-threatening. 

And that would not be allowed. 

So, exerting all maximum concentration in an effort be gentle--as he had not been in twenty-two years--Vader first wrapped his cape around his son before moving one arm under Luke’s shoulders and another under his knees, then scooping him up into his arms. 

_ You are lighter than I would have imagined, _ he thought, staring down at Luke as he shivered and moaned, only half awake. _ As soon as you begin to heal, I will have to make sure that you build up your strength...but until then, you need not worry. Until then… _

“I will watch over you,” he said, finishing the rest aloud. “You do not need to worry any longer. I am here.”


	4. Day 20: Trembling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has a nightmare about Bespin; Leia comes to comfort him, and they have a nighttime chat.

_The wind blows around and over and through him, hard and relentless; with every gust he loses his grip a little more. It doesn’t help that the temperature has to be below zero, and that he’s going into shock, and that his entire body is exhausted in every possible way, and that he’s missing his right hand. _

** _“Hold on. I am coming.”_ **

_ That _ voice, _ in his head and consciousness, is not a hallucination, at least he doesn’t think so; it’s real and ominous and reaching for him, and he shoves it away with a sob. _

_ Another gust of wind; he slips further, not strong enough to hold back the cry that escapes him. A cry for help? For the mercy of death? It could be either one. But there is no one who could give them to him; no one near who cares for him, at least not in the right way… _

_ That’s not true, the Force tells him; and even as an image of the man who is claiming the impossible rises in his mind, he thinks of someone else. Someone who has cared for him since day one, since he rescued her, and then she rescued him back, time and time again. The one who has always been there for him, because he was there for her. _

_ “Leia.” It comes out as a whisper; and then he sees her face in his mind. He almost feels happy then; he hasn’t seen her in so long. “Leia! Hear me, Leia!” _

_ There is silence, several seconds of emptiness in the Force--not emptiness, someone else is avidly searching for him, but he pretends not to notice, even as his consciousness fades--and then-- _

_ “Luke.” _

_ She is coming. He doesn’t care anymore what happens to him; Leia is coming for him. He can’t explain what he feels for her; it is not romantic love, he knows that. He thought that was it, for a long time, but...but she loves Han, and that feels right. But he’s had this intense connection to her, from the beginning, as if their souls were destined to meet… _

_ Maybe he’s getting delirious, but he doesn’t care. All he needs is Leia. _

_ And he can feel her approaching; somehow, impossibly, she has a presence in the Force, almost as bright as his, and it is coming toward him… _

Let go. 

_ The presence is right there, below him. Impossible relief floods him, and he lets go. _

_ There are several seconds of an awful nothing, and then someone’s arms below him, and he is inside. It couldn’t be Leia--she wouldn’t be strong enough--but she might have gotten help. Chewie, maybe? _

_ It is warm, where he is. He relaxes, and is laid on a cot. _

_ Footsteps approach; Leia. He breathes a sigh of relief, opens his eyes-- _

_ “Good work, officer.” _

_ No. No, no. Not possible. It is not Leia who stands in front of him; it’s Darth Vader, who tortured his friends and sent Han to his death and defeated him physically and cut off his hand, who is-- _

_ No. Not true. _

_ Luke doesn’t realize he is saying the words out loud until Vader’s hand is on his chin, forcing his head up. _

_ “There will be no escape this time.” Vader looms above him--the light of the shuttle seems to fade behind the black form--Luke can’t breathe-- “You are _ mine, _ and you will never see your friends again.” _

Leia, _ Luke thinks desperately, _Leia! 

_ But for some reason, his voice doesn’t work--there will be no help--he is in the Sith Lord’s clutches, and he will never see Leia again… _

“Leia! Leia!”

“Luke!” There was a calming presence around him, hands on his face; _ hands like Vader’s _ he thought, and kicked out, shouting and thrashing and doing anything to get Vader _ away-- _

“Tatooine sunset,” said the voice, breaking through his thoughts. “Think of the suns on your home planet, what you told me about; they’d--they’d light up the sky, and the desert…” The voice is crying, he realizes. Not Vader. “Afterward, your--your uncle would call you in, pretending to be gruff with you, but he was actually happy with all you’d done...when you were younger, it meant your aunt would sing to you…”

Luke’s vision seemed to clear. Leia, he realized. It was Leia, and there were tears in her big brown eyes. He gasped for breath, finally noticing that he was in his room--thank the Force Wedge wasn’t there at the moment--and Leia was sitting on the edge of his bed. 

Not Vader. Vader had _ not _ captured him, had _ not _ found him; Leia had gotten there first. He was safe. 

But for how long? 

Vader had methods, and they worked; that’s what people said. Whatever Darth Vader wanted, he received; and so far Luke was the only person who had escaped him. He would be angry, furious...who’s to say he wouldn’t torture Luke before forcing him to join the Dark Side? Torture Leia, again, right in front of him? Get Han back from Jabba and torture him, too--and all of Rogue Squadron--and--

“Luke--Luke!” Leia sounded panicked again; he realized he was hyperventilating. She gripped his left wrist, the real one, and made him look at her. She was crying--for him?--but the look in her brown eyes was also fiercely determined. Somehow it made him focus on her. “Luke. Breathe.” 

He couldn’t stop trembling; couldn’t stop shaking. It was as if he was back on Bespin, cold and without a hand and in shock; vaguely, he registered Leia’s gentle hands round his neck, pulling his head down to rest against her chest. He could hear her breathing, he realized; and if he concentrated, he could match it. He took slow, deep breaths, focused on Leia’s presence around him, helping him relax. 

At last, she pulled him back, but still kept one hand on his arm. 

Brought back into the real world, Luke suddenly felt embarrassed. He groaned, burying his head in his hands. 

Leia leaned forward. “What is it, Luke?”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never--never wanted this...you’ve got problems of your own. I’m a Jedi, I can--”

“And I’m a princess, and a senator,” Leia told him firmly. “And I can’t count the number of times you’ve had to barge into _ my _ room to comfort _ me.” _ She rubbed her thumb against Luke’s wrist; the physical contact helped. “Trust me, Luke. It’s _ all right.” _

He nodded, slowly, and they sat in silence for several minutes, both staring into the dark. What would he do without Leia? He had turned to Aunt Beru, and to Obi-Wan, and Wedge, and Han for help in the past; but when none of them were there, she always was. Leia never moved. She was immovable, as steady as a rock. 

“But...Han,” Luke said, thinking of the friendship the three of them had shared. It had only been three years, but it felt so much longer. “You must miss Han. And I…” He bowed his head. “And I’m to…”

“No, Luke,” Leia said, sounding sadder than Luke had ever heard her sound. “I don’t blame you, and neither does anyone else. I mean…” She sobbed quietly, and Luke looked up; he always hated to see her cry. He always wanted to stop it, the instant it started, because Leia had been hurt so _ much, _ and she still kept going. “Of course I miss Han. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get him back, right now...but it is _ not _ your fault.” Her voice changed tone, sounding suddenly furious. “It’s that _ monster’s _fault. He did this to you, and to us; and he deserves nothing more than a long, slow death!”

Luke swallowed. He knew Leia didn’t mean it--he’d have said the same, just a few weeks earlier--but sentiments like that were half the reason for his nightmares. If people knew...if even Leia knew the truth…

“We’ll free Han, Leia,” he said gently, and the wild look in her eyes slowly vanished. “We’re getting there. Lando’s going to be back, any day, with more news.”

“Maybe.” Leia sighed. "You know, Han helped us, Luke. I mean...he was an arrogant, self-confident, rat-faced jerkass--”

Luke laughed. 

“--but he helped us, really. He was there when we needed him; he’d show up when I was having nightmares, distract me with a cheap trick and a cheesy one-liner.”

“He did the same for me,” Luke murmured, remembering one of the first nights on the base. It had been right after Yavin 4, and he’d been sleeping in Biggs’ former bed, thinking about how he hadn’t been fast enough to save his friend--Darth Vader had been responsible for that one too, what a freaking coincidence--and he’d stepped out for some air. 

And then, for some reason, Han had just been there, stepping out for some air at the same time. Luke hadn’t wanted to talk to him; Han was still in the habit of being condescending, and he’d surely just make fun of Luke...but Han hadn’t said anything about the battle. Instead he’d started talking about how he got his ship, and the number of people he’d had to cheat to even get updates made on it, eventually going into detail about the kind of parts he’d had to get, and how they worked; and that, of course, was the one thing Luke was thinking about almost constantly. Soon, his mind was off Biggs completely, and he was laughing along with Han. 

“See?” Leia shook her head. “He wasn’t as important as you or me--and I’m sure he’d absolutely hate hearing me say that--but in some ways, he was. He kept us going, and he showed up at all the right moments...he did so _ much, _and I’m afraid…”

It seemed obvious what she was about to say, so Luke took the pain from her. 

“You’re afraid we’ll start losing more,” he said softly, “now that we’ve lost him.”

Leia nodded. “How’d you know that?”

“I just…” Luke shrugged. “Seemed obvious.”

Leia frowned, studying him; Luke wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was, how they both seemed so attuned to each other that they could guess what the other was thinking. What did it mean? Luke didn’t know; and at the moment, it didn’t matter. 

“Well, it’s all Vader’s fault either way,” she said, sounding bitter. “And he’s going to pay.”

Luke said nothing. He couldn’t, without the possibility of nightmares returning.

_ You are mine. _

Vader had never said it, not actually; but sometimes, Luke could feel that awful presence reaching for him, probing his mind, pushing on his rudimentary shields, with no remorse, no letting up. There was no mercy with Sith anyway; he supposed he was lucky Vader hadn’t killed him. 

And what would happen if Leia knew? Either she would reject him...or, worse, she would accept him, hunt Vader down, and get herself into a fight that would, inevitably, end in her death. 

And Luke could _ never _allow that. 

“He’s going to pay,” Leia said again. 

“I’m sure,” was all Luke could say in response. He felt too numb to say anything else.

There was a long silence, in which Luke felt that there was an entire conversation, thousands upon thousands of questions, that went unasked. 

“Can I just…” Leia sighed. “Luke, I think I’ll just sleep in here tonight.”

Luke nodded slowly, unable to speak for a while. Leia was here, but the image of his awful father, looming over him, would still not go away. 

“Okay,” he whispered into the darkness. 

And there they sat, hours later; neither of them slept. They simply lay huddled together, wrapped up in their own thoughts, and staring out at the night sky until dawn came. 


	5. Day 27: Ransom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a ROTS AU where Anakin didn't turn to the Dark Side, a thirteen-year-old Luke is captured and held for ransom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this one is late! Hopefully the extreme length makes up for it.  
Some background information: Anakin didn't turn and Padme survived giving birth, but two years later she was assassinated under Palpatine's orders, which led Anakin to finally kill him.

Luke really, really hadn’t meant to go this far into Coruscant’s underworld. 

Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be out this late; his father wanted his children to have freedom, but had set a time limit: he and Leia had to be indoors by 2100 standard time. And usually, he made sure to follow that rule; he knew his father worried for both of them, constantly. He wouldn't say why, but Luke was sure it had something to do with his mother, so he was always home on time. 

But when Akira Tano had told him there was some sort of relic from the Separatist War, he couldn’t help himself. His father had fought in that war, anyway, so maybe he wouldn’t be too angry when Luke showed up late. 

_ Maybe it was something he knew about,  _ Luke thought excitedly,  _ and he’ll be  _ happy  _ when I show it to him… _

That would be something, wouldn’t it? His father, actually happy for once, instead of varying degrees of sad and worried and solemn. That thought spurred him on as he threaded his way through the streets, his hand moving to his lightsaber at the sight of any shady-looking creature who glanced his way. The unnamed Jedi hero might have saved the galaxy from Palpatine, but that didn’t mean crime was completely gone…

There was a noise from behind, like a whisper; Luke spun around, but there was nothing. He breathed slowly, forcing himself to focus. 

_ Pay attention to the Force,  _ he told himself. Taking deep breaths, Luke moved forward. He wasn’t far now; Akira had told him it was past the large warehouse, then two blocks over. He was almost to the warehouse now, and he began to run a little faster…

And then two Rodians stepped out from behind it, blocking his path. 

Luke stopped short, looking them over. They were both tall, were dressed in smugglers’ clothes, and held blasters. Bounty hunters, then? His heart beat fast; partly from fear, partly from excitement. He’d never met any bounty hunters before. He could just see the look on Leia’s face when he told her he’d run into actual, skilled bounty hunters in the underworld. 

That was assuming he escaped them, which he had to do now. 

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to imitate the way his father sounded when he was angry and wanted information out of someone quickly. It wasn’t easy; he never sounded menacing anyway, and his voice hadn’t completely changed yet. But it was worth a shot. “I’m on a mission, so you’d better get out of my way.”

The bounty hunters looked at each other and laughed. 

“Thinks he’s his great father, doesn’t he,” sniggered one of them. 

Now Luke was starting to get angry; he hadn’t come out here at this time of night just to be mocked. “I’m not joking,” he said. “Get out of my way!”

“Or you’ll do what?” said a third voice, this one  _ behind  _ him. 

Luke spun around. Behind him stood a tall human, at least as tall as Luke’s father; his face was partly hidden behind a cloak. This was no bounty hunter, Luke knew that immediately...but there was no time to find out what he was. Luke raised his hands, beginning to call on the Force; but then the bounty hunters grabbed him from behind, pinning his hands behind him. 

“Let go!” Luke shouted, trying to reach for the Force; but somehow it was of no use. The man in front of him was blocking his access, somehow; Luke was stunned beyond words. This man could use the Force? But...how? And why? And why had Luke never heard of him? 

“The Sith may be gone, but I am not,” said the man.

“You’re…” Luke stammered, feeling real fear now. “You’re a Sith.”

“No. Something more…” A cold hand reached out and seized his chin; Luke, both startled and angry, tried to jerk his head away, but the hand was firm. It moved over his chin and hair roughly, stopping over his eyes. Luke froze, hardly daring to breathe. He didn’t doubt that this creature could kill him now, with a touch of the Force…

“Anakin’s eyes,” the man breathed at last. “Yes, this is the one. Take him.”

Take him? Anakin? More questions ran through Luke’s mind, but he couldn’t begin to think about them now. He fought the bounty hunters again, kicking and clawing at them as hard as he could; again, it did nothing. He wanted to cry; all he’d wanted was to find some stupid relic, and now he was being kidnapped, dragged off to who knows where…

_ Father,  _ he thought desperately.  _ Father--help me! Help-- _

“Now you’re trying to call for him, are you?”

Luke froze, turning to look at his captor, who was following calmly as he was being dragged along. He...he could read his mind…

“You had better hope he cooperates within the day,” said the man with a chilling smile. “If not, I doubt you’ll ever see him again.” 

  
  


_ “Anakin...Anakin, help me…” _

_ “Padmé? Padmé, talk to me--tell me--” _

_ “Anakin...I can’t--can’t breathe--stop it!” _

_ “How? How do I stop it? Where--I don’t understand!” _

_ “Help me…” _

_ “Father! Help me!” _

With a gasp, Anakin’s eyes flew open, and he sat up.  _ Something was wrong.  _

Where was Luke? 

Most mornings, after waking, he would sit--sometimes for hours--staring at the place beside him where his wife used to sleep. But not now. Now, that very knowledge spurred him forward; just as Padmé had begged for his help before her untimely death, he had distinctly heard the voice of his son calling him. 

But why? Where would Luke be that he would need his help? 

_ His room. Check his room.  _

Yes, of course. If it was only a dream, Luke would be in his room, sleeping…

Please be here, please be here...his son would surely be angry, but Anakin didn't care. He pushed the door open, fully expecting Luke to whine at him the way he’d taken to recently; Leia was worse. The twins were barely teenagers, and they were insufferable. On a daily basis, they either seemed to want him around them all the time or to lock themselves in their rooms; there was  _ no  _ in-between. Surely he hadn’t been that dramatic at their age…

But there was no Luke. 

_ No, no,  _ he thought to himself.  _ Please, no… _

Leia; he had to check with Leia. She would know where Luke was, and she’d still be here; it wasn’t time for her to leave for the Temple yet. 

His comlink was ringing, but he ignored it. 

As Anakin approached Leia’s bedroom, he found himself wondering if  _ both  _ the twins were gone; no. It couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t  _ allow  _ it to happen; he wouldn’t allow himself to consider it. Because if both the twins were gone, then, then there was the possibility…

He wouldn’t have a family anymore. 

But just as he was about to open Leia’s door, it opened for him, and Leia emerged. She was still wearing her pajamas, and her hair was a mess; but she looked worried. 

“Father,” she said. “Have you seen Luke? He’s usually awake by this time--”

Before she could finish, Anakin hugged her tightly. Leia mumbled something into his shoulder, but he ignored her; there were no words for the relief that had swept over him. Leia was here, Leia was safe. His family wasn’t completely gone yet.

But he still had to find Luke. 

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked her, pulling back to look her in the eye. “So you haven’t seen him either?”

“No,” Leia said. “I felt something wrong this morning, but that’s the other thing; I woke up by myself, usually he’s so excited he wakes me up--”

Dread pooled in Anakin’s chest. Luke hadn’t come home last night. Usually he tried to let his children have their freedom; he’d been restricted at their age, and though the Jedi Council was none too fond of the fact that he was raising his own children, he would not make them hate him. But that was the one rule he was strict about; he  _ knew  _ how dangerous Coruscant was, and after what had happened to his wife, he was constantly worried about anything that might happen to his twins. 

Luke and Leia were teenagers now, but they still respected the rule; and the few times it had been broken, it had been  _ Leia  _ who broke it, not Luke…

There was a knock on the door. 

Could it be…

“Stay here, Leia,” Anakin ordered his daughter. “Don’t say anything, don’t move--I’ll be right back.”

“But--”

“ _ Stay there!” _

Slowly, Anakin went to the door, fearing...what? An assassin? The Council, bringing back the body of his son? But the Force wasn’t whispering danger, so he opened it--

Obi-Wan. 

Anakin relaxed slightly. He didn’t see his old friend too much these days, but they had still remained on the best of terms; and judging by appearances, the only thing that had changed about Obi-Wan was his age. Though his hair and beard were a little whiter, though there were a few more wrinkles around his eyes, he still had the same wisdom, the same air of mischief about him. 

But today, he was not smiling.

“Obi-Wan,” he said. “Please tell me this is about Luke.”

“Yes, it is,” Obi-Wan said. “There’s something that I think you should see.”

  
  


They’d kept him there the entire night: a cold cell, with no windows or even a bench, almost entirely pitch black, chained at the wrists and ankles, with no food or water. But that wasn’t even the worst part: the worst of it was that his binders had, for some reason, cut him off from the Force. 

Luke was almost relieved when his captor arrived, but that was quickly eclipsed by fear. They’d mentioned he would never see his father again...but what did that mean? Where were they bringing him, if anywhere? 

Would they kill him? 

Luke flinched back when the man reached for him, but it was no use; he was seized by the upper arm and dragged forward, onto his knees. 

“Now, young Skywalker,” said the creature above him, “I am going to send a message to someone...someone who you know very well. I suspect you know who that is.”

His father. Luke wished he could be here right now; he’d defeat this scoundrel in a matter of seconds, wielding his lightsaber with such a power he could destroy the entire building, if he wanted. Luke nodded. 

“But if you misbehave--if you attempt to call for help, or to tell him where you are, or to escape--he will never find you again.” The human’s eyes became suddenly hard and cold, seeming to pierce him. “Do you understand?”

Luke nodded quickly. 

“Very good, boy.” The man let him go and turned on a holoprojector; Luke winced as bright blue light hit him, having been in darkness for hours. “Greetings, Anakin Skywalker and all others who may receive this message. My name is Chlamydius, and I have here a young person who may interest you.” 

Luke looked up at the projector for several seconds, hoping he didn’t look terrified or weak; if they ended up killing him, he didn’t want that to be the last thing his father remembered of him. 

“If he is indeed someone you care to rescue, you must bring me two billion Republic credits by sunset. After that time, the boy will be shipped off to Corellia with the last shipment of spice slaves.”

Luke looked away. A slave...that was far worse than he’d thought. The Jedi were trying to put an end to slavery, but some slave trades still survived; and from what he’d heard, the conditions were inhumane. 

_ Any of us would barely survive a week,  _ one Padawan had said…

Stay strong, he tried to tell himself. Stay strong...for your father…

_ A slave. Corellia spice mines.  _ Unbidden, two tears traced their way down his cheek, and he looked down. 

“You will never see him again.”

Anakin looked up from the message in horror, unable to shake the image of his son beginning to cry, his small frame shaking as the holoprojector cut away. Clearly, he hadn’t heard the news before that moment. 

He glanced up. Obi-Wan was looking at him with pity. 

Suddenly it dawned on Anakin. “They won’t give up the credits, will they?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “You know our situation with the fires, Anakin. It took out an entire wing of the planet; we’re still cleaning up, there are hundreds of survivors that need medical care---”

“Damn it, Obi-Wan!” Anakin hadn’t raised his hand, but the chair sitting across from them suddenly rocketed into the wall. “This is  _ my son!” _

“I know that, and so do they.” How could he continue to sound so calm? He knew Luke as well as anyone! There had even been talk of him becoming the boy’s official Master, so why--

“Anakin, listen to me.” Anakin realized his anger was rising again, and forced it in check; he was a Jedi. He did not use the Dark. Not after what Palpatine had done to his family. “This is precisely the reason why the Council did not trust you to raise your children, especially after Pa--”

“Don’t speak of that!” Anakin let out a sigh. “Yes. I know. I understand…”

“Not everything,” Obi-Wan said. “There is something you still aren’t seeing.”

Anakin closed his eyes, letting the Force show him Obi-Wan’s intentions...impossible! They did not want Luke to be sold into slavery; they intended to set him free. 

“They want me to free him,” Anakin said. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “They want anyone but you to free him…but.” He smiled. “But personally, I believe it won’t be done otherwise. So I’ve come to you before they can select anyone else.”

Anakin smiled. Their relationship had only grown over the years, after Anakin had fulfilled his destiny by killing Palpatine, until they had become even more than friends, even more than a former Master and Padawan. They had become brothers. 

Together, they stood. 

“Father!” 

Both men turned to see Leia, wearing her Padawan robes and holding one of the spare lightsabers. 

“Leia?” Anakin frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” she said, her expression one of pure determination. “I heard everything. I have a connection to Luke that no one else does! I can help!”

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. 

“No,” Anakin said firmly. “Leia, you aren’t thinking; you felt his fear this morning, but why haven’t you felt him since?”

Leia frowned. “I...I don’t know. I thought--I thought it meant he…” Her lip quivered. “That he died--”

“No,” Anakin said, more sternly than he’d intended. “ _ Not  _ yet. It means someone is suppressing his ability to use the Force, so no one can contact him. And that means that, frankly, your bond with him is useless.”

Tears formed in Leia’s eyes. “But...but, Father…” Then she pressed her lips together, seeming to shake it off. “I can still help you. Two Jedi are always better than one, you always tell us that!”

“Yes, of course, Leia. But you are  _ not  _ a Jedi.”

“But I  _ want  _ to--”

“No!” he declared, and Leia took a step back. “Leia, your brother is captured and in danger of being tortured, and used, and--and  _ dying,  _ and until I save him, you are the ONLY family I have left!”

Slowly, Leia sat down. 

Abruptly, Anakin realized that he had just shouted at his daughter and clenched his fists, forcing his anger under control. He needed to avoid the Dark; he could be a good father without it. 

“Anakin,  _ calm  _ yourself,” Obi-Wan whispered, gripping his friend’s arm. “You will save your son, but you must be  _ patient! _ ”

“I’ve been patient long enough,” he said, shaking Obi-Wan’s hand off. “Stay with Leia; don’t leave her, make sure no one enters this house!” He swept his cloak around him, clipped his lightsaber to his belt, and marched quickly toward the door. “ _ I  _ am going to rescue my son.” 

  
  


The fool Chlamydius had never given the location he was keeping Luke; it was not needed. Apparently the bastard was testing Anakin, and if so, he had highly underestimated him. He had found his children with less information many times before; and though he could not feel Luke in the Force, he could feel his captor. Clearly, Chlamydius was some kind of Force user, and while his potential was strong, it was also highly untrained, leaving him as obvious as a gaping hole in the sky. 

Before he knew it, he had discerned the man’s location: a former set of Clone Trooper barracks. Most likely, Luke was being held in one of the cells; the thought made Anakin burn with anger, and this time he did not force it down. 

As he approached it, the Force began warning him of danger; he didn’t stop, but cast eyes around him, aware of the slightest...there. A blaster bolt, aimed his way; most likely a bounty hunter. He drew his lightsaber, raised it, and the bolt bounced off...but not just anywhere. No, he made sure it ricocheted back directly to the bounty hunter’s thigh. He wanted to kill him, but that would get him thrown out of the Order. 

No. Incapacitation would do. 

The next obstacle was the door, but that was nothing. One touch of the Force, and the lock shattered; he threw the door open with relative ease. The cell was in front of him; he could sense Chlamydius’ presence. And that meant his son was there. But before that….

The Force was warning him again. Another bounty hunter. 

Anakin lifted his head; there he was, a Rodian hiding in an upper corner along the beams, firing a bolt even as Anakin looked. He couldn’t draw his lightsaber; he had done so outside, but Chlamydius would hear, and then he would know Anakin had come for rescue...and then Luke might be gone by the time he got to him, or dead. 

But there was another option. 

Anakin seemed to see everything at once, before it happened: the cell in front of him, the Rodian, Chlamydius waiting for Anakin’s death, the realization that his son had never meant to be freed, that this fool would only take the money and kill whoever had come...the bolt, speeding a course for Anakin’s heart. 

His son would not be taken from him. 

He stopped, raised his hand, and closed his eyes.  _ I will not die,  _ he told himself.  _ I will not die.  _

There was a gasp from the Rodian. Anakin opened his eyes. 

The blaster bolt was lying on the ground. He’d stopped it, in midair. 

The Rodian wouldn’t fire again; he was already running in fear. Good. Anakin proceeded toward the cell, took hold of the lock, and ripped it off with his metal hand. 

As he entered the cell, Chlamydius gave a startled shout and leaped to his feet, seizing a lightsaber from his side; but Anakin only had eyes for his son. Luke had been kneeling on the ground, his head bowed, but as Anakin entered he lifted his head, his eyes filling with hope. Just that gave Anakin the determination he needed. 

And then Chlamydius ignited the lightsaber--green, it must have been stolen--and held it in front of Luke’s throat. 

“Stop there, Master Skywalker,” he said, his tone derisive. “I admit, you made it further than I would have thought--”

“Well, that was unwise,” Anakin said. A corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, but there was no humor in it. “The Jedi Order doesn’t hold with treachery.” 

“And you obey everything they say? Come now, Skywalker. We may have differences--”

“You don’t say,” Anakin said darkly. 

“--but you have to admit you’re hardly more of a supporter of non-violence than I am. After all, how did you get in here? By killing the bounty hunters, I assume?”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Anakin said; but he had considered it. He still wanted to do it. “You can look yourself, if you’re curious.”

“I’m not. But you  _ thought  _ it, didn’t you?” Anakin couldn’t say a word to that, and Chlamydius smiled. “You want to do it...you want to kill me, here and now; but if you did, you’d be thrown out of the Order.” Chlamydius ran a cold finger over Luke’s cheek, and his son shuddered. “Not to mention, I do believe your sweet child would never look at you the same again.” 

The sight of that creature’s hands on his son made Anakin want to throttle him and there. “You will  _ not  _ touch Luke again, you--”

“Ah, ah. Not so fast.” Chlamydius looked Anakin in the eye. “I don’t like the sight of you standing there with your lightsaber drawn, so why don’t you put it away within...ten seconds? If you don’t…” Chlamydius brought his own lightsaber an inch closer to Luke’s throat, and Anakin started forward. “If you don’t, I’ll kill him.”

Anakin looked at Luke. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear...but with their bond unavailable, he couldn’t guess why. Fear for himself?

Or fear that Anakin would break the Jedi code and kill Chlamydius?

Anakin still barely gave a damn about the blasted code; he couldn’t count the number of times he’d broken it. But if Luke or Leia were to  _ see  _ him break it, and in such a horrible way, when they themselves worshiped everything the Jedi stood for…

_ “Anakin, stop it--” _

That made his decision. He extinguished the blade, returning the lightsaber to his belt.

Chlamydius smiled. “Excellent; and with two seconds to spare. Now--”

Suddenly he stopped speaking. He grasped at his chest, his throat, stuttered; nothing. 

Anakin raised his hand, lifting Chlamydius off the ground while he squeezed the life out of him...and yet, the hand in front of Luke was still reluctant. He squeezed harder, willing the Force to drive the breath out of him, once and for all…

Anakin looked down at Luke. His son was looking at him, panicked. But there was nothing Anakin could do about it. 

_ I’m sorry, Luke,  _ he thought as Chlamydius’ eyes began to close... 

And then the lightsaber dropped from his hand. 

Chlamydius’ life still beat in the Force, Anakin knew it; so he dropped him, even though everything within him wanted to murder him where he stood. 

_ No,  _ he thought.  _ Think of your son. Of your daughter.  _

They had become his strength. He had to keep them alive, and safe, for that reason alone, even though there were many others as well. 

Chlamydius was unconscious now, but who knew how long that would last? Anakin moved to Luke, unlocking the binders as quickly as he could. His son was gasping, clearly in shock, and he desperately wanted to comfort him; but Chlamydius must be taken care of first. Anakin dragged the man into position, locking the binders tightly around the wannabe Sith’s wrists and ankles before turning to Luke, who was huddled against the wall shaking, his arms around his knees. Anakin almost strangled Chlamydius again, but turned his attention away from his son’s captor by running his fingers through Luke’s hair, again and again, in an effort to calm him down. 

“You’re safe,” he told him, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Luke, look at me.  _ Look  _ at me.” 

Luke finally focused, his eyes finding his father’s; they swelled with tears, but at least he seemed to have calmed down. Anakin pulled him to his feet; and immediately Luke wrapped his arms around Anakin, clinging to him. Anakin embraced Luke just as tightly, relieved beyond belief. 

“I’m s-sorry, Father,” Luke sobbed, clutching Anakin tighter. “Akira t-told me there was a r-relic in the underworld from--from the war, and I-I thought you’d be happy--I didn’t th-think they would be there, I didn’t want to make you angry--”

“Luke, I am  _ not  _ angry,” Anakin said gently, stroking Luke’s hair back again and again; that always seemed to calm him down. “I promise you, I could never be angry with you.”

Luke looked up at him, his face stained with tears. “Really?”

“Really.” Anakin kissed Luke’s forehead quickly. “You’re my son, Luke. The only reason I enforce that rule is to keep you  _ safe.  _ Because I love you. Do you understand?”

Luke nodded, a tiny smile hiding at the edges of his mouth before he hugged Anakin again, burying his face in his chest. Anakin returned the hug again, wanting only to stand there with Luke for as long as his son needed. Luke was so  _ young-- _ thirteen was far too young to be kidnapped, threatened with slavery, and nearly killed; but Anakin had experienced much worse before his age, and that was why he was determined to keep both his children from harm. His wife had died young, but the same was  _ not _ going to happen to his beloved son and daughter, the light of his life. 

He was Anakin Skywalker, after all, and that meant that he could stop people from dying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Akira Tano is absolutely Ahsoka Tano's son.


	6. Day 30: Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of Day 17, "Stay With Me." Vader helps Luke recover from his injuries; Luke learns Vader's true intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for description of torture.

It was all wrong. Carrying his only son in his arms would have been surreal, joyous, the most wonderful moment of Vader’s life...had said son not been currently unconscious from hours of torture, not to mention the countless other wounds he’d received. The only thought in Vader’s mind, as he marched swiftly to his shuttle, was to get Luke into a bacta tank, and quickly. 

But first his injuries would need some assessment. As Vader laid him out on the small cot in his shuttle, he realized the situation was worse than he had originally thought as he listed the impressive--and awful--array of injuries: dangerous chemicals in his bloodstream, courtesy of the IT-O droid, that would have caused Luke to feel as if he were either burning up or freezing to death. Electric shocks, also courtesy of the blasted droid. Several dark bruises on his face, as well as a broken rib, both most likely the result of punches given by Stormtroopers. A mild fever. A broken leg. 

Vader burned with rage, wishing he could go back and kill Kraslin all over again. Even one bruise would suffice as a death sentence; but these were dozens of injuries inflicted on his son. Who knew how long he would take to recover? 

As if sensing Vader’s fury, Luke murmured something and shifted away from him in his sleep. Although Vader’s anger still burned hot against Kraslin, he would have to restrain his feelings for now, for his son’s sake. 

And yet another question burned in Vader’s mind. Luke had been restrained by binders, but not Force-suppressing ones; he had enough training, surely, that he could have escaped if he wished to. If not that, he could at least have  _ stopped  _ the torture by throwing Kraslin with the Force…

So why hadn’t he?

Vader would have to get it out of him when he woke. He would have to know, in case it did have something to do with Luke’s meager training in the Force. That would also be rectified; but only after Luke had healed fully. 

"Pilot," Vader announced, his eyes remaining on Luke as his son muttered deliriously. "Prepare to depart. I have what I came for." 

  
  


Luke woke from the strangest dream. 

It had to have been a dream, because the details were already starting to fade as he came out of sleep; and also because it had been so bizarre. From what he could remember, someone had captured him--there was something about a dead daughter--and begun interrogating him, only for someone else to swoop in and rescue him; he couldn’t remember who that was, either. It had seemed like Darth Vader was there, somewhere, but he was in all of Luke’s nightmares, now, so that made sense...he must have been the interrogator, and Han would have saved him. 

Then, afterward, after the rescue, he’d been sick, and Han had helped him, giving him the water and food he hadn’t received while in the cell and supporting his head as he retched, and other things...Force, Han would have been irritated had that happened in real life. 

That was a good dream, Luke thought with a smile. In that dream Han was free. 

But where was he now? He was struggling to keep his eyes open--for some reason he kept wanting to slip back into sleep--but he could see that he was in a dark room that seemed too large for his room back on base. 

The bed he was currently lying on was also much too large for the one he was used to; three people could have fit in it. Also, the fabric was rich enough that he was pretty sure it should be illegal. 

Where was he, then? Still dreaming?

But if he was dreaming, why did he hurt?

It was dull; a soft ache, in the background, but it was certainly  _ there.  _ Luke suspected he was under an anesthetic. And the question still persisted--

_ Why? _

There was something he wasn’t remembering; something out of place…

A cold fire burning suddenly in his mind and he was snapped out of his thoughts, fully awake now. It was a presence, powerful and overwhelming and blotting out everything else in the Force--

Luke’s eyes went wide. No. No, it couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be…

But the last time he’d felt him that strongly, it had been on...on...on Bespin. He had to be on base. 

_ “You are with me now...I am here.” _

Not on base. 

The memories flooded back, and Luke shut his eyes. 

It hadn’t been a dream. 

The cold was dangerously, horribly close. Not wanting to admit what had happened but also not wanting to appear vulnerable, Luke opened his eyes. 

Darth Vader, his f--the monster who’d tortured his friends and brutalized him in a duel and killed Obi-Wan and killed thousands of other people and cut off his hand, was standing in the doorway. 

“No,” Luke whispered, not wanting to believe it; because this meant that it hadn’t been Vader who had tortured him, it had been Vader who’d  _ rescued  _ him. He must have seen Luke helpless, realized he’d take a long time to heal, and decided that would be the perfect opportunity to force his son to serve the Empire.

The pain, all throughout his body and almost overwhelming, was starting to grow; but it was nowhere  _ near  _ the fear and helplessness and fury he felt now. 

“Luke,” Vader said, taking a step forward into the room, then another--

Memories of Bespin were already threatening to resurface, of pain and horror and being humiliated in the duel and seeing Han writhe and Leia scream, over and over and over again, of being told the hero he’d always dreamed might return was the man who’d done all  _ that,  _ and more; and now he was trapped with him, probably for all eternity, unable to escape--

“No!” Luke shouted this time, and--as Vader stepped forward again--moved faster than he’d even thought he could, swinging his legs over the side of the bed--

Something was wrong. His right leg was fine, but his left--

Against his will, Luke crumpled as his leg failed to stand under him, only to be caught by the monster from his nightmares. The death mask hovered over him, skeletal and horrifying, even as his consciousness began to leave him. 

“You are in no fit state to move, Luke,” said the thunderous voice that haunted every dark corner of his mind. “You have been injured, far worse than you believe, and you  _ must  _ rest.”

_ Rest?  _ How could he, until he was free of the murderer who claimed to be his father? But he didn’t even have the strength to say so out loud; all he could do was claw weakly at the black-clad arms as Vader lifted him and set him back in his bed before his mind drifted off to sleep. 

_ “A wonder you even managed to destroy the Death Star, isn’t it? You claim to be a Jedi, yet you won’t break free of the torture that must be causing you more pain every moment.” Kraslin laughs; this time Luke can’t even respond, the fire racing through his veins preventing him from uttering anything more than a groan. It takes immense control to do only that, and not to scream, which will only satisfy Kraslin. “But you’re not broken yet. We’ll see if this does anything.” _

_ He turns to the droid, says something that escapes Luke’s ears; there’s too much noise in his brain to distinguish one event from the next. _

_ Until a small hammer is leveled at his leg.  _

_ “No, no,” he whispers, backing up on the small bench; but that only delays the inevitable. The hammer slams into his leg, smashing sinew and bone; this time he can’t hold back his scream.  _

_ But he won’t beg for help. He won’t… _

_ “You are  _ weak,  _ boy,” says another voice; Luke looks up with a gasp. He knows this voice. Rumbling like an advancing thunderstorm, it’s obviously Darth Vader, who is also impossibly his father. “Weak, foolish; I have controlled my pain for years by simply focusing on the Force, yet you are broken after a  _ day _ of torture.” _

_ “No,” is all Luke can think to say; it comes out in a rasp. “Not...not yet.” _

_ “Let  _ me  _ be the judge of that, my son.” Vader grasped Luke’s chin, lifting his head up; Luke struggled, but the grip was like iron. “You have been given ample opportunities to show your skill, but have failed each one. At your age, I had won battles, bested opponents; under your lead, the Rebellion has yet to land more than a single victory.” _

_ Luke’s breaths come faster, rushed; he’s almost hyperventilating. His wounds are terrible, but somehow they are nothing compared to what Vader is leveling at him. His father does not want him, because he is weak in the Force; he is nothing. A disappointment of a son. _

_ “Unless you pass this test, you cannot possibly be my son; cannot be a Skywalker.” Vader backs away but gestures the droid toward Luke--no. It is not possible. It  _ cannot  _ be; his father must love him, somewhere deep inside… “A Sith survives eons of torment and survives on his anger; you  _ will  _ do that, you  _ will  _ remain strong, or you will die.” _

_ The droid moves toward him; Vader’s mask morphs between the livid face of Kraslin, fused into one, as Luke sits frozen on the bench, unable to move--unable to escape the nightmare-- _

Luke’s eyes snapped open; the room was dark. Seeing only the pitch black of the cell at first, he shouted in alarm; but he was safe, the Force was telling him, safe. 

Well, as safe as he could be. 

_ You are weak.  _

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, unable to drive away the memory. It had never happened; Vader had never said it; but he was sure it was true. Darth Vader was a powerful Sith, murderer of thousands, fear of the galaxy; and Luke, his only offspring, had just the Death Star under his belt, and that at the age of nineteen. He was sure Vader had done far worse at a much younger age…

He couldn’t, he couldn’t think about it.  _ Leia,  _ he told himself.  _ Han. Wedge. Think of them… _

And yet the skeletal mask of death, the face of the monster who now held him prisoner, loomed in Luke’s mind. Choking back tears--no weakness, you’re not weak--he sat up, hugging the blankets around his knees. But there weren’t enough, not nearly enough to cover what he was feeling now.

And then the door flew open, and Vader was in the doorway.

Luke’s head jerked up in fear; unconsciously, he clenched his right hand.

In seconds, Vader had approached him, was reaching for him-- _ grip like iron, foolish to resist-- _ and Luke yanked away, panic racing through his veins.

“Don’t touch me,” he gasped. “Don’t--get  _ away!”  _

Surprisingly, Vader did as he asked. Well, that was a first. 

_ It’s probably to give you a false sense of security,  _ he told himself. Yes. Yes, that was certainly it…

They remained like that for several seconds, Luke curled in on himself, determined to get away from his father; Vader, with his hand clenched at his side. Disappointment.

“You were having a nightmare,” Vader said at last.

Luke had no answer to that; Vader had been its chief subject. There was a very, very long silence. 

“I...have had them myself,” he said; again, a surprise.  _ False sense of security.  _ “I can help you--”

“No!” Luke said vehemently, wishing he could curl up further. “I just...just...I--”

He couldn’t speak; words were swallowed up. Nothing.

“Very well, my son.” Vader withdrew himself. “But I do...understand.”

“You could  _ never,”  _ Luke whispered, shaking both with fear and rage. 

Without another word, Vader left. 

Luke closed his eyes. But he didn’t sleep. 

The following morning was better; he didn’t see Vader at all. 

What he did see was a droid to inspect his leg, which was actually doing better than Luke had imagined it would. He must have been put in bacta, as the bone had actually begun to heal; but he still couldn’t stand on it. 

He was still trapped. 

The Sith never entered, but when Luke attempted to meditate, the presence was there, watching him, always watching; he withdrew, gasping for breath and shaking.

That night, he didn’t sleep for a single moment.

The next day was terrible for two reasons: one, due to being awake for thirty-six hours, he felt absolutely wretched. 

And two, Vader entered his room while his leg was being tested. 

Immediately, Luke drew himself away from the droid and back into bed. The droid looked surprised--as much as a droid even could--but wheeled itself away. That left Luke alone with Vader, and he almost wished the droid would return. 

“I am not your enemy,” Vader said, coming closer; Luke couldn’t get him to go away, so he simply laid there and stared at the blankets. “I am one who truly understands you--”

“I know what you want from me,” Luke said, still not looking at him. “And you...you won’t get it. I’ll die first.”

“That is  _ not  _ an option,” Vader snarled, and Luke looked up at him quickly, fearful; but his...his...his father was simply standing there. He looked slightly calmer now. “Son, I--”

“Don’t  _ call  _ me that!” Luke snapped, furious. “You don’t deserve to call me that!”

“I…” Vader had been reaching for him, but his hand dropped. One, two, three beats; he didn’t say anything. He seemed genuinely...genuinely  _ saddened _ ; and, in turn, that surprised Luke. 

But then, he said something that surprised Luke a thousand times more.

“You are right,” he said. “I do not.”

Luke did a double take; that wasn’t right. Vader...actually believed him? Vader believed what Luke believed: that he was absolutely awful, that he didn’t deserve children or even mercy at all?

Again, he told himself, he’s drawing you in. He wants you on his side at all costs.

Then...then why in the galaxy was the Force whispering that that was the truth?

_ You’re tired. You’re exhausted….you’re imagining things,  _ he told himself as Vader left, the formidable black cape swishing behind him. But this time it seemed less formidable than usual. 

All he wanted was sleep; he  _ needed  _ sleep, as every cell in his body screamed at him to lie down and close his eyes. 

But he couldn’t. He didn’t know what to think; did his father care about him, or was he the monster who’d tortured his friends and brutalized him and lopped off his hand? Every time Luke seemed set to consider the former, the mask of death and the image of the red lightsaber haunted him. 

He couldn’t sleep. He’d have dreams again; and who knew if Vader could even invade them himself?

So he sat awake, shivering and wanting to sleep, but unable to sleep. It was a miserable existence. Was this how Han felt, he wondered, stuck in carbonite for all eternity? They said it was a waking-sleeping sort of experience, where you saw everything happening around you but it was as if you were dreaming; not any kind of rest at all…

“Luke,” said Vader’s voice, close to him, and Luke flinched; he hadn’t even heard or sensed the man approaching, that was how exhausted he was. He turned, dreading what his father might say, but all Vader held was another pile of blankets.

“Uh, uh, uh, thanks?” Luke stammered after a long silence. 

Vader regarded him for several seconds. Luke couldn’t possibly guess what he was thinking. Was he disappointed that Luke was showing weakness? Was there a part of him that cared? Was this just another trick--blankets for use of the Dark Side? Fatherly care for eternal allegiance? 

“You need sleep, Luke,” Vader said at last.

“Yeah, sure.” Luke laughed bitterly. “Maybe when I’m not your prisoner.”

“My  _ prisoner?”  _ Vader sounded incredulous; there was little to tell from the mask. “I rescued you from that cell, in case you’d forgotten--”

“And that was exactly what I wanted to  _ avoid!”  _ Luke snapped. 

He hadn’t wanted to say that.

“You  _ what?” _

“I…” Now he’d have to say it. “I knew you’d...well...the last thing I want is to be your stupid apprentice, and that’s what’s going to happen now, and if I used the Force you’d know exactly where I was!” He sighed, trembling; it had felt good to say it, though it probably condemned him. “I guess it was for nothing anyway.”

Vader stared at him, in complete silence; Luke wondered if he was shocked. Maybe. Probably, though Vader always seemed to guess what he was thinking--

_ So it is true. His fear of you enabled the torture-- _

Luke jerked upright, shocked to be hearing his father’s thoughts; and then the thoughts stopped, so maybe Vader hadn’t meant for him to hear that. 

“Son.” Luke didn’t protest the term; he had no strength anymore. Now Vader knew where his greatest fear was; he could manipulate him how he wanted. “Tell me something.” Again, there was nothing to say; so begins the interrogation. “Do you...do you truly doubt my intentions for you?”

“Your  _ intentions?  _ You want to use me, to turn me into your apprentice, to--to--to fully conquer the galaxy with me by your side, though I have no idea what the details are. What...what…” Luke looked at Vader, desperately, begging for there to be some sort of humanity, even a shred, left within him. “What do you  _ want  _ with me?”

“What...what do I  _ want?”  _ Vader laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder. Luke shuddered; but he had no longer the strength or ability to resist. “I want nothing, Luke. Nothing, but…” The hand tightened almost to the point of pain. “Nothing but you. You are my son.”

_ Sense of security...don’t be weak...be strong… _

Luke wanted to believe him, he wanted so impossibly hard to believe Vader, but if he did….

_ He is telling the truth,  _ whispered that still, soft voice that had come to be the Force, untainted by Darkness.  _ Believe it.  _

So he did. Though it was impossible. 

“Wait, so you...you…” Luke frowned, blinking his eyes open to stay awake. “You actually care about me?”

At first, Vader didn’t answer. Then the answer came; but not in words. It came in another squeezing of his shoulder--Uncle Owen used to do that, he remembered vaguely, when he was proud of him--in a hand that swept bangs out of his face--Aunt Beru used to do that, when she tucked him in at night--in the same hand that traced a line down the side of his face, at last stopping in the gentlest of holds on his chin.

“Of course, Luke,” Vader said, the vocoder carrying more emotion than Luke had thought possible. “I want you to be strong; you have such potential. But first...you must recover. And to recover, you  _ must sleep.”  _ The hand on his shoulder came up to rest on his head. Luke closed his eyes, wondering how long this would last; Vader actually being a  _ father,  _ the one he’d dreamed of all his life, not the harsh monster. “And I will be here until you do.”

It was impossible, but that was the most comforting thing he’d heard in days.

Vader continued to sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing hair back from Luke’s face, again and again, never once stopping.

In moments, Luke was asleep.   



End file.
